


Cruel to be kind

by aimée (annebenedicte)



Series: Cruel to be Kind [1]
Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-05-05 11:05:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14617085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annebenedicte/pseuds/aim%C3%A9e
Summary: Two strong women like Bernie and Serena were bound to fight ...how do they make up ?





	Cruel to be kind

“Cruel …I know what you’re doing …”  
« Ouch …Miss Trunchbull …well, if the cap fits… »  
How dare she? In front of a patient and a F1 … Serena had to acknowledge that coming from anybody else, this probably wouldn’t hurt that much – she would brush it off in a second. But from Berenice bloody Wolfe … the woman she had begged to stay, in front of the whole ward, and who’d gone all the same. Of course, she’d apologized – and they’d kissed and made up. And if if wasn’t for Bernie, she wouldn’t have survived Elinor’s death - she would have drowned in sorrow and Shiraz. But it didn’t give her the right to chastise her as if she was a kid. When Bernie came over all “top dog Army medic”, it got Serena’s hackles up. Jasmine would survive – they’d all been through this before – hazing was par for the course in med school. Serena was still fuming when Bernie came back from theater . Unaware of the resentment that had been building up in her partner, Bernie gave Serena a nudge and whispered: “Got over your Hitler impression yet? I need your help for an aortic aneurysm repair in one hour.”  
Serena glanced at Bernie darkly: “Oh …now you need my help.” Bernie looked at Serena uncomprehendingly: “Well, if you’re busy, I can manage, but …it would be nice.” Serena wanted to refuse – right this minute, she wanted to tell Bernie to go to hell- she wasn’t in the mood – but professional conscientiousness prevailed, and she nodded: “I’ll be there.”  
Of course they disagreed – there was the trauma way, and the cardiovascular way, and both would work, but Bernie wanted to do it her way. Technically, it was Bernie’s call – her patient, her surgery. But the little devil on Serena’s shoulder urged her to protest , to impose her procedure. They glared at each other over the operating table. Bernie lowered her eyes first, and Serena went to work – however, as luck would have it, the aneurysm ruptured before she had time to patch it. Serena could feel Bernie hovering over her, itching to take over, but she couldn’t surrender – just couldn’t back down. Her fingers had over ideas and began to shake – maybe mixing Shiraz and alprazolam hadn’t been such a good idea – or maybe it was the coffee – too much, or too little. Still, no way she would …  
“Ms Campbell, are you all right?  
\- Yes, I’m fine. Just let me do my job!  
\- Ms Campbell – Serena – step aside, please!  
\- I’ve got it, Ms Wolfe – calm down.  
\- Serena, step aside now! She’s going to bleed out.  
\- No she isn’t”  
Well, she probably would, and she would have killed a patient, and she would lose her job, and …what did it matter anyway.  
“Serena – last time – get out of here, or I’ll have you removed – just go and sober up somewhere! How can you be so fucking irresponsible? You’re supposed to be a consultant, for God’s sake – not a F1!”  
Bernie hadn’t intended to blow a fuse in theatre. It just wasn’t done – not in front of the anesthetist, the nurses… But she was tired, her temper ran short, and she couldn’t bear to see Serena like this. When Serena stalked out of theatre, Bernie bit her lip behind her mask – she shouldn’t have said that – she knew how fragile Serena was. But the patient always came first. She took a deep breath, steadied her voice, and asked for the stapler. She could apologize. She would apologize – later.  
As they were so busy, and often needed for night emergencies, the two AAU consultants shared a small on-call room where they kept a change of clothes. It wasn’t much – just a single bed – more like a bunk, really, an armchair, a shelf, and a small closet. Bernie had operated for nearly ten hours straight, and she was tired. Maybe she wasn’t work-tired, she thought – she was anger-tired, or regret-tired. She hadn’t seen Serena after the last surgery – she wasn’t in their office, nor in the cafeteria. Bernie had already changed from her scrubs to mufti – her usual black shirt and black jeans, and she collapsed on the narrow bed. She didn’t intend to nod off, although it would have been wise – she was due back on the ward in less than five hours. However, sleep overcame her, and when Serena burst into the room, she heard the door slam, and woke up abruptly.  
Serena started – she didn’t know Bernie was there – otherwise, obviously, she wouldn’t be. Her anger had been simmering all day, and it had reached boiling point. How dare she? How dare she? Her brain was on a loop. She could hit her – or maybe strangle her. But that wouldn’t be enough – and this wasn’t the way she wanted to take her revenge. In the dim night-light glow, Serena saw the brief glance of panic in Bernie’s eyes – her anger must be etched all over her face.  
“Serena – are you …are you all right?” whispered Bernie. She didn’t want anyone to hear – the hospital walls were paper-thin, and their domestic tiffs were no one’s business. Specially since their argument in theatre was probably already all over the hospital.  
“You asked me that once already, Ms Wolfe, I believe, and I said I was fine.” The words hissed. It wasn’t their first quarrel, and usually they found a mutual way of appeasement. Serena glared at Bernie, and Bernie flinched. She knew she had to apologize – that was usually the best way. She knew she had been way out of line. She lowered her eyes, and stared at Serena’s feet – she had half-stood up, and was now sitting on the bed, and Serena standing towered over her.  
“I’m sorry – I …I’m so sorry – I don’t know…” As Serena remained silent, Bernie risked a glance at her face, and what she saw in it frightened her. For one weird moment, she thought …ought she to … No, that would be too weird … Serena was almost shaking with rage…she lifted her hand, and …and lowered it, but Bernie had seen the gesture, and had flinched as if the hand had really struck her.  
“Stand up.”  
The order rang out, and she obeyed without a word – she’d been trained to – she’d always obeyed orders, always followed the rules – until the day she hadn’t and then … So Bernie obeyed and stood while Serena sat slowly on the bunk, in her place.  
“Take those off – now, Major!”  
For a second, Bernie didn’t understand – because they’d never done it quite like that – and not in the hospital. And because she didn’t want to – because it was the last thing on her mind. They’d solved a few arguments like that, but not quite like that – not in anger – not with that cold rage dripping from her partner’s lips.  
“I said – take them off!” Serena’s voice wasn’t loud, she wasn’t shouting, she wasn’t even threatening – she was just …ordering, and Bernie shivered. Her fingers fumbled with her shirt buttons. She managed to undo them, and to get out of her shirt. She threw it on the armchair, but a steely glance from Serena made her retrieve it and fold it – no words had been necessary. That was one of the army habits she had been more than happy to leave behind – and her one habit which made Serena mad. So one glance was enough to chastise her and to get her to obey. In the army, untidiness had been a punishable offence – it seemed that Serena agreed with that. Bernie instinctively crossed her arms on her breasts – the air conditioning was cold, but the gesture was a futile attempt at protection from Serena’s icy glare.  
“Come here!”  
Bernie fought the urge to stand at attention – this was all ridiculous – she was a grown woman, a soldier, for God’s sake. But she took a step forward, and Serena’s hands were on her belt …. Unclasping it, lowering her jeans …Bernie tried to step out of them, but Serena stopped her, seizing her wrists, forcing her arms down, exposing her breasts, leaving her vulnerable.  
“Berenice.” The use of her full name always made her cringe, made her think of a time before Major Wolfe, before adulthood.  
“You know what is going to happen, don’t you?” Bernie did – she bit her lip and nodded – they’d been there before – it would be painful, but if it granted her absolution …It never got any easier though – so …humiliating.  
“I need to hear it, Berenice.”  
Just a murmured word: “Yes – I’m sorry.”  
“Not yet, but you will be.”  
Bernie lowered herself on her partner’s lap – the first spank stung, and soon her whole behind was on fire – it always surprised her how much it hurt, because she had been through so much worse. The tingle between her legs, however, had become an expectation, and soon it rose to be even more unbearable than the spanking itself.  
“Please…Serena, please.” She begged – she always did, and it was always in vain. This time more than the other times, apparently, because she could still feel Serena’s anger radiating through her whole body, not just through her hand. Halfway through, her knickers joined her jeans at her ankles, and her humiliation heightened. So did her arousal. When at last the spanking stopped, she would have lain there, exhausted, but for the hand which not too gently pulled out of position. She lifted eyes full of still unshed tears towards Serena’s face, letting them plead with her for release, but the dark eyes in answer remained unshaken. She sank to the floor on her knees and buried her head in Serena’s trousers: “I’m sorry – I’m so sorry…please….”  
Serena looked at her partner’s messy blonde hair and fought the urge to give her the relief she craved. She cupped her hand round Bernie’s chin and lifted her face towards her. With her other hand, she brushed away the fair strands stuck on Bernie’s forehead. Bernie reached out tentatively to Serena’s blouse, but the brunette immediately captured her hands in hers, holding them away.  
“Serena …please – please let me …”  
“No yet, Major – I’ll decide when.” Serena was fighting against her own urges now, but she didn’t want to relinquish control – not just yet – part of her wanted to prolong the agony, to bring them both to the point of complete ecstasy. And she could only do that if she resisted a little more. She freed one of her hands, and traced Bernie’s lips with a finger. Then she stood up, still holding Bernie’s hand, and the blonde had no choice but to follow. Bernie was uncertain now – the game was going on far longer than usual – but was it still a game? Had it been one?  
“Take those trousers off, Major” When in doubt, follow the orders – at least she was no longer Berenice. She bent down and stepped out of her trousers and panties, resisting the urge to calm the throb with her own hand.  
“Sit!” Bernie obeyed, and tried again : “Please let me …”  
\- Are you begging me?  
\- Yes!  
\- Soldiers never beg, Major – you should know that. Try again.”  
But Bernie couldn’t – she was utterly lost – her body desperately tried to climax, and her brain just couldn’t read Serena’s mind any longer – “I can’t – I don’t know what to do – I don’t know what you want…”  
How they’d managed to stay on the narrow bed was a mystery – but it was only when they both heard their pagers ring, some time later, that Serena gave Bernie the answer… “I only want you, my darling.” They both got dressed, and looked at each other interrogatively. Serena grinned: “I’ll go first – otherwise you might get a reputation…  
\- I might? What about you?  
\- Well… I’ll deny everything – and I’m much less rumpled and wild-haired than you, darling”  
Bernie giggled: “All right, then – I’ll smarten up a bit – see you in five.”  
Left to herself, Bernie had a look in the mirror, and acknowledged that Serena could be right – her hair could be tamed, but her clothes and the half-grin on her mouth would betray her …


End file.
